There were questions which needed to remain buried -- at least for now.
Twilight was fully aware that this became considerably more difficult when she was in the presence of somepony who might have custody of multiple answers. When it came to color perception, she didn't possess the degree of refinement which Spike and Rarity enjoyed. (It was possible that learning to call Rarity's aspect forward would grant her that portion of the designer's talent, but -- doing so was very much a work in progress, and she had found no means of making that voice rise from within.) But she'd seen Starlight's field at work now, noted its hue, and was willing to believe her sibling on the shade being an exact match. The unicorn was involved in this, and one of the currently-entombed questions was 'how?'
Of course, when it came to any attempts at finding answers, Twilight did currently have access to what might be described as the easy option. This began by flinging away the hat and allowing a falsely-invisible horn to be outlined within a very real, heavily-spiked double corona. The next step would clearly be to envelop Starlight in a field bubble, pushing the unicorn against a convenient tree -- there were a lot of trees around and suddenly, they were all convenient -- and start shouting directly into stunned ears. She even had an opening line of questioning available. Something along the lines of 'I know you did it! Own up!' --
-- maybe she needed to cut back on channeling Rainbow's aspect for a little while...
It was hard to keep silent, when the potential source of information was currently guiding them in. But she didn't know anything about Starlight, or why this 'community' was here.
We could be trotting into a sick colony.
I have to remember that. We don't have proof yet one way or another. They might be hiding just because their condition is so -- disturbing. Afraid of how ponies will react...
Starlight, at least in terms of basic mark presence, was clearly fine. (This didn't resolve the query as to whether the displayed icon was what the unicorn had originally started with.) But the others were all very conspicuously dressed. With a rainforest, in the summer, with a -- 'style' -- which served to conceal every last pair of hips.
"I could always just wear a lot of dresses..."
As far as Twilight was concerned, it meant everypony else in the escort party had likely been affected.
And it puts them in a position where they can't really comment on our being dressed up.
However, the group's presence also meant that if Twilight did attack, her miniherd was going to be instantly and significantly outnumbered. And while the unexpected reveal of a small dragon might do a lot to influence their chances of victory, it wouldn't change the fact that they would be targeting the ill.
And there was another consideration. When it came to their destination, four other mares had gone in first.
I can't even mention them. I don't know what kind of lie would work. Or what Rarity might have said first, in case we were found after they were. (Because when it came to the creation of a shielding lie, the first and just about only viable candidate was Rarity.) I can't check on my friends...
And directly targeting their hosts might have a detrimental effect on the first group's welfare.
...which already assumed that all four were currently okay.
That nothing had happened to their marks.
Perhaps a count of four hostages was about to become seven. Getting to drop a surprise eighth into that mix might not change very much.
If you've hurt them...
Had they been hurt? Targeted? In the case of a mark-affecting illness, infected?
...worse?
...would I know if...
She didn't have an answer to that, the only ponies she could have asked were in another hemisphere and if she somehow did find herself in front of them, there didn't seem to be any reasonable way of phrasing the question. Asking the sisters whether soul-bound aspects and the donor ponies were linked on a level which allowed an alicorn to feel the exact moment when somepony...
...she hadn't felt anything like that. No sensation of severance, much less any sort of -- pulling. Something intangible falling away, with a sort of spiritual gravity trying to draw her in after it. And with the lack of any testimony to the contrary, Twilight decided to treat the absence as a positive sign.
They have to be okay.
She still didn't know what she would do if they weren't. But she was currently in a position to take that unknown action from rather short range.
Twilight glanced behind her. Applejack was softly speaking with two of the escorts, and doing so while working hard to maintain a degree of distance: nopony could get too close to the rolled-up groundpad. Another pair of locals had tried to strike up a conversation with Fluttershy, which was going about as well as usual.
Their outfits...
Perhaps that was the surest proof of just how deeply Rarity's aspect had been buried within Twilight's soul. She couldn't hear any inner screaming.
(Which just left her worried about the true again.)
It's not a clothist colony. If you want to cross one of those borders, then you've got to put something on. And they don't take things off to make others comfortable. A live-in exception like Starlight... no. And if dressing up like this is mandatory, and they made everypony do it...
If that had been the case, it might have been possible to hear Rarity's screams from Canterlot.
Is this like what Applejack said about serial killers? That what it can take to solve and stop everything is having it happen to more ponies? Every extra victim as a fresh source of clues. And if all of the dressed ones are affected, then what we have here are more ponies.
Too many.
There were those who said that a mark was the soul made visible to the world...
Is this a disease of the soul? Or is someone -- somepony -- trying to interfere with --
-- she didn't want to think about that. She almost wished to be incapable of the mere thought. But there were sapients who would break anything if they saw the base form as being wrong. She'd met one, and the consequences of Gentle Arrival's actions had spread out to cover the world.
Or maybe they all wished for their marks to change.
Their... souls.
The redefinition didn't feel like an improvement.
Are there really that many who hated their lives? Loathed the core of their being, dreamed that they could turn away from their own destinies...
There had been a corpse in the palace surgery. The last remnants of a stallion who might have wished for his mark to change, and... for some reason, he'd made the rod bring him to Canterlot.
(Did Rarity's group have the device fragment? She'd forgotten to ask Spike.)
He might have wished for his mark to change.
Perhaps the last thing he'd done was to change his mind.
The vegetation was thickening, and that included the portion which Twilight had to keep forcing her legs through. If this was an official path, then it wasn't used much. Applejack had the benefit of earth pony physical power and Fluttershy was considerably stronger than she looked, but the librarian was the smallest pony in the group. There was an odd sort of vine which sprouted from the forest floor at irregular intervals, it was a little too woodlike at the base, and she couldn't just phase through it --
-- Starlight was looking at her.
There was an odd intensity to the unicorn's gaze. It wasn't quite like being on the receiving end of Fluttershy's Stare. Something about being under this direct regard suggested that lilac eyelids had been asked to hold back Sun.
Twilight, who'd been through worse, kept her legs moving as steadily as she could with the forest undergrowth in play, then tilted her head a few quizzical degrees to the right and waited.
It was possible to see the thought arrive on the mare's face and, like Rainbow crashing into a balcony, it pretty much all turned up at once.
"I should inspect your hat," Starlight decided.
Twilight blinked.
"My..."
"Your hat," the unicorn repeated. "May I inspect it?"
The forest seemed to be getting quieter. She couldn't hear as many birds now, and the sounds produced by animals moving through vegetation had almost completely faded out. It was just a group of ponies, advancing towards the shield.
I know the illusion is working. I've asked the others to look at the results a few times. And Luna must have done something to block out passive feel. She must have. But I don't know how she might have tried to stop or hide from an active attempt, and the horn concealment spell is running right now...
Twilight, working from a lead time of zilch, tried to think of a really good reason not to temporarily turn the hat over and came up with a matching amount of nothing.
She managed a shrug. "If you want to."
A turquoise aura ignited around the lilac horn. Fine tendrils of energy went under Twilight's jaw, carefully worked on the knot. Portions of her skin began to tingle, and she forced her gait to remain steady.
The hat came off, and did so at the exact moment when the final remnants of a broken breeze forced themselves through the forest. Air lightly brushed against Twilight's forehead, and an imaginary patch of fur rippled.
Starlight rotated her field bubble. Inspected hat, fabric, brim, and ties with utter focus, leaving her legs to mostly fend for themselves. No green stains seemed to be adhering to that fur, and perhaps that was the result of a spell -- but the left forehoof was nearly snagged by a vine.
The unicorn stumbled, just a little. Recovered quickly, and did so in the exact manner of a cat. It wasn't any special flair of physical dexterity: just a suggestion in hips and shoulders that no stumble had ever taken place. All counterevidence had been dismissed in advance.
She nodded to herself, with the bundled-up mane barely bobbing. The field bubble settled the hat back onto Twilight's head, and then the knot was retied. The extra tension around the jaw suggested it was considerably tighter.
"The waterproofing treatment on the brim is inadequate," Starlight pronounced. "As I expected. We have something suitable within the community. If you wish to apply it."
"I might," Twilight carefully allowed.
Don't let her inspect the bow.
Even with the hat back on, do not let her have the bow. She'll probably feel the wire inside just on texture. And if she figures out that it's platinum...
What was a really good reason to not let Starlight look the bow over, especially after Twilight had already let her inspect the hat?
Say it's cultural.
...maybe there is a cultural reason. I don't think I've ever seen Apple Bloom without hers. But that might only apply to earth ponies --
-- okay, Flitter, but I'm pretty sure that's her idea of fashion --
"Earlier," Starlight abruptly said, "you stated that your wing was injured due to a 'bad landing', added to strain. Does it require medical attention?"
"Just rest," Twilight quickly replied. Because any competent physician would probably be able to tell it hadn't been hurt. "Hopefully not too much more of it." With a slight smile, "Just getting into a more civilized area might do the trick."
And that's an opening...
"Are you a doctor?" Twilight asked.
The hesitation was slight. "I supervise the majority of the community's medical needs," Starlight stated. "We have a number who are skilled in first aid, but anything more complicated comes to me."
Which, if you're telling the full truth, would leave a sick colony running on one researcher. But when it came to a public reaction, she couldn't risk anything beyond a basic nod.
Twilight could easily stay on the lookout for anything resembling a medical facility. But the escorting ponies looked healthy enough.
...except for how every pegasus didn't seem to have their wings in a fully natural rest position. And the unicorns were carrying their heads too low, earth pony ears dipped, just about every last strand of fur came from that part of the color wheel which had been labeled as 'dulled'...
"Has the community been here long?" Twilight politely inquired. "It certainly doesn't appear on any of our maps."
This pause was almost suited to Fluttershy. A streaked tail failed to twitch, and ears rotated because their owner had decided it was time for that.
"The basics have been in place for some time," Starliight finally said.
I'm starting to see what Spike meant by 'scripted'. You were fine when you first trotted into camp -- or at least you were better than this. But right now, you almost feel like somepony who went out on stage without rehearsing first No improv training, and not a prompt box in sight.
"Are you one of the original settlers?" felt like a natural enough question. Something which came with a strictly binary choice of answers, and that meant the reply would have to be just about immediate.
She was wrong.
It was possible to watch the unicorn think about her response, and Twilight got to survey the process for several too-long seconds.
(Starlight thought about everything.)
"I was the first," the mare finally said. "By a small margin. If it becomes necessary, then I'll be the last."
Curiously, "So you picked the site?"
The unicorn nodded. Eventually.
"You're a very long way from home," Starlight abruptly stated.
It was the conversational equivalent of watching a pony-shaped automaton trying to take a step backwards while it had already been in the middle of a forward one. Any damage inflicted through failure to dodge fast-flying dislodged syllables was placed upon the audience, which really should have been paying more attention.
Please tell me I wasn't this bad.
"Gallops and gallops," Twilight readily agreed. Would a pegasus use 'gallops' first? Is there a measurement for the average distance covered by one day of flight? There were so many little ways to get things wrong...
"Explorers are uncommon," the mare followed up. "On a frequency chart for modern marks, they represent one of the rarest talents. So having an expedition of ponies this far away from Equestria would be unexpected."
She held back the shrug. "By definition," Twilight countered, "explorers are most likely to turn up where nopony else is looking. Because that's the job, and the talent."
Starlight thought about that.
"Arguably," the mare said. "You have an interesting way of approaching logic."
There were ways in which the words could work out to a compliment. Twilight wasn't entirely sure about the tone, mostly because there would have needed to be rather more of it.
"Thank you," seemed to be a good way of testing for intent.
Starlight didn't answer. She just kept moving.
I can feel you casting.
Your horn is dark. But you don't always have to ignite a field in order to adjust your own spells. We have to be getting close to the shield, and I know what kind of resonance it puts out. I don't think you shut that down, not for the whole thing. You're probably just telling it not to radiate in this direction.
The feel is... strange.
...clinical artistry...
Which still didn't make any sense.
And you didn't ask for my name, after I wanted to know yours. You haven't asked for anypony's names.
...please tell me I wasn't this bad...
But as far as I can tell, you're leading us in. Which means you're bringing us that much closer to the others.
...why did you want to see my hat?
If Starlight had suspected a concealed alicorn, then the simplest way to test would have been through making physical contact with the hidden horn. Perhaps it had been nothing more than a simple inspection for waterproofing treatments.
We have to keep them from going through our inventory. Spike was the primary, extremely hard to explain reason there, but... there were other factors. The modified Hoovmat suits could be explained away, especially when they were being carried by explorers. However, having possession of one-fifth of the stock for the world's most advanced translator devices -- actually, as Equestria-sanctioned explorers, they could likely explain that one away as a palace loan. It just happened to double as an extremely tempting target for any researcher, who would undoubtedly ask if they could look it over for a while. That was certainly what Twilight would have done in that situation, and there was even some chance that the device would have come back intact.
The really awkward inanimate part of their collective stock would be the signal devices. Twilight might be able to claim they'd heard rumors about something dangerous in the rainforest, for which the solution was a lot of light -- but these were the locals. They would know.
We're nearly at the border, aren't we? You can do something about the resonance, but rendering anything that big invisible to passive feel... maybe that's impossible. It's why your barrier is buzzing in my head.
We're almost in.
Soon, she would know.
If anything's happened to them...
Twilight made herself smile.
"Have you ever met explorers?" she asked. "Before us, obviously."
The mare nodded.
"Once," Starlight said. "It was an opportunity."
"An --" was as far as Twilight got.
"As one of the rarest talents," the mare went on, "it requires a perspective and mindset seldom found among the population. One seldom meets explorers, because so few ponies have led the sort of lives which would lead them to that manifestation. Accordingly, encountering a marked explorer is an opportunity for education. Any such circumstance should be exploited for reciprocal benefit."
There was something in the blue eyes just then. Not quite the mist of fond reminiscence. She just looked -- thoughtful.
(She thought about everything.)
"So we talked," Starlight added. "For quite some time. The outcome was mutually favorable."
The smile wasn't exactly beginning to ache. "So you made a friend?"
That required a little more consideration. Shade and shadow dappled a steadily-moving back.
"I think they see it that way," the unicorn decided. "Especially as they continued the association, of their own will. And the community would be lessened without them. Silence, please. We're nearly at the border. I have to let us in."
Right. You have the key to this lock.
Who else does?
Twilight waited until they reached the first hint of sparkles in the air, then glanced back at the trailing group. The radiance from Starlight's newly-lit horn illuminated multiple faces and, for seven of the locals, a single expression.
Downcast faces. Half-closed eyes. Trying not to look, as hooves scraped shallow trenches into rich soil. The collective countenance of those who had to watch somepony being sick in public, with nothing they could do to help.
They're -- sorry for her...?
And it didn't make any sense.
Twilight stepped over the gap in the soil, then made a mental note to ask Applejack just how far down it went. Tapping into her own earth pony feel would have required calling forth that aspect, and she was uncertain of her ability to do it on the trot. At the very least, Twilight suspected she would have wound up looking extremely distracted.
Shortly after that, they passed by something newly familiar. A cool scent (albeit one with no true suggestion of mint) called out to Twilight, and she did her best to inspect the specimen of espinho de chama without slowing her pace. It didn't provide her with the time she would have needed to inspect the interior, and any scent of dried blood had already faded. A botanist could have offered a legitimate reason to pause -- but Twilight hadn't claimed that as her talent.
And when they got a little further in...
So the illusion spell worked into the shield managed to hide this.
She was sincerely impressed --
-- there was something in Twilight which was fairly attuned to the movements of her friends. It had been paying particularly close attention over the last few days, because there were fewer mares to track and she really needed to know where all of the remaining ones were. It meant she heard the exact moment when the heaviest set of hooves abruptly stopped moving.
"I apologize if I'm messing up somepony's schedule," the Manehattan accent quickly said (and Twilight briefly wondered if anypony else had picked up on the slight tremor in the farmer's voice). "But if we're not in any real hurry, then -- do you mind if I look around a little before we head the rest of the way in? Professional interest."
The entire group paused along the farmland's outer border. Starlight thought it over.
"An agronomist would naturally be interested in our arrangements," the mare didn't quite concede. "Take a few minutes."
"Thanks," Applejack said. "I'll try not to take too long."
"However, I may ask for your professional opinion of our arrangements at some point," the first settler sincerely offered. "And advice. We've come this far, but the situation can always improve."
The earth pony inspected the moisture collectors. Walked carefully along the furrows, examined sprouting plants. Two tenders were signaled over, and a forehoof pointed out a fast-developing patch of clubroot among the cabbages: ponies immediately began to work on preventing the disease from spreading any further. She moved, cataloged, visibly filed everything away in her memory, and made sure nopony ever got too close to the rolled-up ground pad. Keeping the ground pad from falling off her back was the top priority.
At one point, she stopped to speak with one of the earth pony workers, doing so in tones which Twilight could barely hear.
"You're putting in a lot of labor," Applejack told the worker.
"It's what the community needs," the stallion smiled. "I'm proud to do my part."
"I can tell," the alternate accent agreed. "But I was wondering... why so quiet?"
Quiet...? Which almost made Twilight search the farmland for a small grey body. Not that it would have done any good.
"...quiet?" the confused stallion inverted.
In perfectly friendly, casual tones, "Don't you think a work song might make the whole thing go faster?"
The stallion's head tilted slightly to the left. "But -- nopony else is singing..."
And if Twilight hadn't been in possession of a single extra fact, the words might have still felt normal enough -- but when somepony had the knowledge which let them understand what was really being discussed...
She didn't hear any earth pony magic.
The Cornucopia Effect isn't being used.
The expressions at the shield, and now this.
Why?
She kept thinking about that as they moved through the agricultural section. Why not use magic? It wasn't as if the Effect had ever been part of the Secret, any more than its opposite -- and nopony had tried to use the wasteland effect to take out the infected cabbages either.
Twilight glanced around as they passed the laborers. Most of what she registered were the smiles. The little waves of forelegs, added to a few called-out greetings. Welcoming the strangers, and doing so with open enthusiasm. Starlight verbally stepped in if that last part threatened to go on for too long, saying the proper welcome hadn't been scheduled yet and everypony would get their chance. For now, it was best to let the new arrivals rest. Get cleaned up. Settle in. They were safe.
This made the majority of ponies happy. A few, just barely within her hearing range, seemed confused.
"Didn't we get new ponies the other day?"
Twilight's heart almost stopped.
"I -- think so?" With some pride, "I've been putting everything into this planting. I'm not sure I'd notice if the shield collapsed!"
"Don't worry," a coworker assured him. "We can always meet them while they've being welcomed."
A little wistfully, "It'll be like truly getting introduced for the first time, won't it? Like it was for us. Meeting the world. I wish I could feel that way again..."
"Appreciate it through somepony else," a mare smiled. "It's one true first for everypony. No exceptions. Not even the obvious ones."
Which was when one of them looked up just enough to notice her, and all of the workers stopped talking. Two waved, and every last one smiled.
A few of them briefly looked at each other. As if to see whether everypony else was smiling.
When I hadn't been in Ponyville for very long...
(When she'd just started to realize exactly how much damage had been done.)
...I kept going into the bathroom. Checking myself in the mirror. Because it felt like I couldn't remember how long it had been since I'd smiled that much, or laughed. I didn't know if I was smiling right. And then Pinkie caught me checking myself in a window. She figured it out. And she told me that natural was always best. To just let it happen, and -- they'd understand.
Also that when I really tried too hard to fake a smile, it sort of turned into a rictus.
Like a corpse.
She kept thinking about a dead stallion's final expression. Thin and vicious.
Twilight did her best to check on the others as they moved inwards. If Applejack had been shaken by the lack of magic in the farming area, she was doing a good job of concealing it. Fluttershy, however, was looking increasingly uncomfortable -- and Twilight was fairly certain that it wasn't because complete strangers kept trying to speak with the caretaker.
...well, it wasn't entirely that. But every time she saw the hybrid, Fluttershy was -- looking around. Visibly trying to listen, with dyed ears rotating in all directions. And there was nothing to hear.
No birds under the shield. She must not be picking up on other animals --
-- but then they reached the actual community.
Twilight looked around. Immediately noticed the uneven streets, added that to the slipshod paving, and decided they were collectively trying to drive her insane. Something which would be a slow process, but she liked their long-term chances.
The lake caught her attention. She wasn't sure what to think of the pony who was trying to fish, other than to wish him the joy of it while vaguely hoping that at some point, somepony would be so kind as to explain exactly what that was.
There are fish in the lake. I just saw scales near the surface. And there's ripples moving in towards the shore.
There's a shield up: the waterfall is on the other side of it. But the lake --
"...those are very interesting mane combs," Fluttershy softly said. "The free ones."
When it came to speech, the next reaction was about as close to 'immediately' as Starlight ever got. "Do you like them?" Not quite eager, but -- curious. Wanting to hear more.
"...they're -- interesting," was as far as Fluttershy would go. "I'm always interested in mane combs." Which was accompanied by a small head toss and disproportionate quantity of flouncing hair. "...you can probably guess why."
"Take a few," Starlight said. "Please. Let me know what you think. They can always be refined."
Fluttershy slowly moved closer to the elevated tray. Twilight went back to looking around.
How many ponies live here?
...do any of them know anything about construction? Not that she was an expert, but there was something in Twilight's soul which wanted balance and when it came to the local architecture, her OCD was openly under attack. She wanted to grab some sandpaper and smooth something. Also this thing, that one, most of the others and while she was at it, that one half-protruding beam could stand to be cut down by a few hoofwidths.
At least there's chimneys. We can keep the fire going for Spike if the treatment needs to be continued. (She hoped the chimneys were better built than the rest of it.) But if we're lucky, he won't relapse. The humidity is definitely lower in here. And they had to reach concealment so Spike could take the simple move of getting down from Applejack's back: he'd been riding for well over an hour, completely still and silent. He needed to move and, if this kept up much longer, was also going to need a bathroom. Badly.
Dulci said Dinky wanted to see Spike. That's not going to happen for a while.
What's going on in Ponyville?
...have I seen one filly or colt since we got here?
There were any number of questions she could have asked herself. Some of them would be passed on to the others, and a number would ultimately dredge up answers from a putrescent swamp of bubbling horror.
But then there was a voice, and it made every last query vanish.
It was a voice which Twilight could not summon from within. And she had spent days in silently offering the world anything of hers it might wish to take, if only she could once again hear it from without.
"Welcome to Truedawn!" called out an accent with a maximum native speaker pool of one. "I certainly hope you're feeling welcome, as the locals do try to make their guests comfortable." The briefest of pauses. "Although what would make me comfortable at this exact moment is being given a clear trotting line -- yes, thank you --"
Twilight's head whipped to the left, and the too-tight knot under her jaw did its part to keep the hat in place. The fact that it felt as if the tie had just partially cut off two major blood vessels was considered to be incidental.
She did not run. There was no reason to break into a full-scale gallop, at least not one which their hosts might have fully understood. Instead, she forced herself to move steadily, approaching at a normal pace as the white unicorn mare slowly moved out of what appeared to have been a mobile circle of locals, freeing herself from their company in order to have a few words with a familiar face...
Perhaps Applejack was smiling. She knew Fluttershy had reacted, because her ears had just picked up on a jolted comb tray rocking back into position. Twilight was mostly hoping that the rolled-up ground pad didn't jump down, run up, and try to hug white forelegs, because that was going to be pretty much impossible to explain. But for her own part, all she could do was... approach.
It was easy. It was also the thing she'd most wanted to do since the moment when the tethers had broken.
"Faceti!"
Did that sound natural?
...do I care?
She did. Just not about whether the greeting had come across as normal.
"Dear," Rarity smiled. "We were somewhat concerned, of course. As might be expected, given that our respective exploration teams have had no contact for some time and our weather surveyor never did manage to spot you from the air." A faint sniff. "Not with a mountain between us and that canopy in play. But there was a rather natural hope that, much as our hosts found all of us in one piece, they might find a way to locate the lot of you. And I see that they have..."
The little herd which had been surrounding Rarity was well behind her now. Nopony was too close to Twilight. They had about nine body lengths of privacy in all directions, especially since none of the native pegasi were flying.
The mares came up to each other.
There was a nuzzle. It was the one meant for friends, if rather more understated than Twilight would have liked. And it still meant everything.
It also provided the chance for Rarity to whisper at short range.
Urgently, with more than a hint of desperation, "Where is --"
"-- on her back. The bedroll."
She heard the sharp breath, followed by a slow exhale. "Ah. So your group did have it. How is --"
"-- recovering. We came up with a treatment. Did you give her any names for us?"
"No. There was no means of relaying them to you, and -- nopony has asked."
Fighting to hold back surging tears, a struggle which couldn't be explained. "I'm sorry..."
Gently, "Whatever for? You merely saved our lives. No apology is required."
Twilight backed away, very slightly.
Rarity looked -- calm. Almost too much so, to the point where it was possible for those who knew her to spot the tight control.
"I was simply out for a trot," the designer stated. "Exploring the area. And naturally, a group of locals appeared to guide me. Almost instantly. Being helpful."
There were ponies watching them. Twilight didn't care. Only two in that count truly mattered -- plus one very cooperative ground pad.
Found.
But what else did we find?
"You're hurt. I saw the way you were moving. That right shoulder -- there's no seepage, but your outfit doesn't sit properly over the bandages."
Almost proudly, "You noticed the distortion? Well, the injury itself is practically nothing. Much like yours, I would hope. A few days of recovery for both of us? Despite the world's best efforts..."
It didn't matter.
Nothing seemed to matter.
They were together again, and Rarity had told her that the others were okay. They could deal with anything as long as they were together. They always had.
...so far.